That Special Week
by harrison-girl
Summary: Crossover, blood, jealousy, cactus juice, fireflies, rhythm, and lick. My submissions for the second Zutara week.
1. Crossover

Crossover

It is a truth universally acknowledged that once one was involved with a prince and stopping a war that any royal council would be in want of you for a ball or party where "differences would be forgotten and all would have fun." Regardless of anyone's opinion of it.

As almost always, Katara dreaded these stuffy sorts of meetings where she had to go and act polite among ambassadors and nobles. She had come to dislike putting on her traditional, formal gear, which got hot and heavy in the summer heat of the Fire Nation, where, inevitably, these things were held.

_Hot and heavy_

_Gasping breaths…his soft lips…gold glimmering in the moonlight—_

She stopped her train of thought right then and there, before any of _that_ got out of hand.

Sighing, she prepared herself, tying the knot of her wrap-around dress, and slapped a belt on over it. She arranged her hair, knowing soon, she would have to hop across to Toph's apartments in the royal grounds to help her put on an outfit that was at least color-coordinated properly and put her hair up in a way that at least stayed in place. The last party she went to, Toph had had a fit of independence and had worn a brown tunic-dress, yellow leggings, and her hair ended up springing out of its position, promptly spraying one of Zuko's relatives with hairpins. It ended rather nastily with several broken pillars and burnt tapestries, and a few angry yells of, "SPARKY, will ya calm down!"

Katara checked herself briefly in the mirror.

Fancy up-do, with hair loopies placed just so amongst the loops; check.

Fancy blue dress with the white fur trim on the hem and long trailing sleeves? Double check.

Pearl and sea-glass earrings? Check.

Mother's necklace? Check, as always.

She sighed, hiked up her gown, and walked out into the overcast, muggy night to find Toph.

"Soooo! You lookin' forward to seein' Sparky in all his finery?" Toph asked her as Katara begin twisting her tough, dry, and butt-length black hair into an acceptable shape. If they were lucky, and Yue's light blessed them, Toph's hair might even end up looking attractive.

Of course, not that Toph really cared. But Katara knew that she'd work it anyways.

"Well, I suppose. But neither my pride nor my slight prejudice of the Fire Nation will allow me to enjoy it," she replied, smiling slightly. Toph smiled back.

"Even after seven years, you still hold a grudge, Sugar Queen?"

"A small one. And I really can't let Zuko, I mean, _the Fire Lord_, let his guard down. He's just too funny when he's on the edge!"

"Nicely put." Toph wriggled impatiently in her seat, wrinkling the folds of her green kimono. Katara put the last pin in place in Toph's hair.

"And to be honest, I don't think that Zuko ever looks attractive in Fire Nation formal wear, but that's just my opinion."

"Good opinion, once lost, is lost forever, Katara," Toph quipped, getting up and leading the way out the door and to the party.

"Very funny, shorty," she jibed, knocking her friend on the shoulder with her elbow.

Katara sighed. Aang was beginning to bore her with his talk of chakras and spirits. He may have been her best friend, but the Avatar was not a sensible young man, and the deficiency of knowledge of other peoples' interests of things other than peacemaking had been but little assisted by hours of education on party talk or real life society.

As usual, it was hot in the room, and she was beginning to feel quite damp. Toph was busy chatting up a few of Zuko's, no _the Fire Lord's_ relatives that seemed to be her age. Sokka, looking formal (and actually acceptable for public, she cheered to herself) in a deep blue robe, shirt, and pants, with a shoulder piece emblazoned with the moon symbol, danced with make-up-free Suki, who wore envy-inspiring green, her short red hair decorated with a single white lotus.

She put her hand on her chin and observed the room further. Dignitaries for each nation were scattered around, talking with each other. Several groups of Fire Nation nobles chattered and danced with each other. She noted Mai and Ty Lee standing with each other, talking animatedly, each well-dressed.

As her eyes roamed, she spied the Fire Lord himself. At scarcely twenty-three years of age, he had the look of someone a little too stressed, and slightly bored. He cut a fine figure in a deep scarlet shirt, black trousers, and a black surcoat with gold filigree details along the edges. His pointed boots did nothing to disguise his height, and the cumbersome crimson robe he wore carelessly over his outfit didn't narrow his shoulders in the slightest. His hair, always unruly, a good rival to Toph's, spilled out of its formal topknot, onto the scarred face, which really, truly didn't disfigure his good looks.

She laughed. He had a few growth spurts since she last seen him at nineteen years old. He'd gone from a teenage boy just getting used to his body to a tall, broad-shouldered man in this time, unlike her brother. All the growth spurts in the world, and Sokka would still remain long, lanky, and skinny.

"Katara? Katara?" Aang asked quietly, nudging her, a great feat, considering the immense folds of robe draping over his left arm.

"Hmmm, yes, Aang?" she said.

"You were daydreaming. What's going on in your head?"

"Oh, I was just observing the party."

"And by that you mean 'observing Zuko', right?" He smiled widely.

"Very funny Aang."

"Well, if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavor to conceal it, he must find it out," he said, attempting to sound old and wise.

"You know, Aang, coming from the single guy, you know an awful lot about love," she said sarcastically.

"Exactly, Baldie! What are you digging at?" Toph said, joining the conversation.

"Um, well, you see…" The young man struggled for words.

"Well, come on Twinkle-toes! Dance with me!" The Avatar soon found himself dragged off by his old sifu onto the dance floor.

Katara found herself sighing again. She felt another nudge, and craned her neck to see her brother standing next to her.

"Yes, brother dear?"

"How're you?"

"Oh, dandy!"

"Try 'the only one not dancing' on for size," Sokka teased.

"If the moccasin fits, wear it."

"Don't go giving me Gran-Gran's old proverbs. It's bad enough that she and Iroh are here, never mind Grandpakku. I've been getting jibes about marriage all night long."

"I thought Pakku asked you not to call him that."

"Whatever. Dance with me? Suki's eating."

Katara reluctantly took Sokka's hand and he whirled her out onto the floor. She espied Zuko dancing with Mai, smiling with his big white teeth.

_Oh, what those teeth would be able to do…_

Stop that, she told herself fiercely.

"Katara, it's no secret that you've been observing Zuko a lot tonight. I think the whole party knows," Sokka said, "But I think he's still affronted since the last party we had, and you completely denied him a dance. I'm pretty sure I heard him crying in the bathroom."

"'And then he didn't dance with anyone that night.' I've heard it. I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified me," she said crisply.

"Since when did he mortify you, Katara?" Sokka asked. "I'm pretty sure that you're just hiding your feelings for him underneath a layer of ice!"

"Coming from the guy who's been living with his girlfriend for almost seven years and is afraid to make a commitment!"

"You may as well have beaten him with your hairbrush!"

"May I cut in?" said a soft, smoky voice. Katara and Sokka turned to it, realizing that they had stopped dancing.

"Sure! But I think that it'll look weird with two guys dancing together!" Sokka said, his voice jumping a little higher.

"No, I meant with your sister," Zuko said softly, grinning. "But let's hope she doesn't beat me with her hairbrush."

Katara pinked considerably.

"I would be honored, Fire Lord Zuko," she said, quivering. He swept it, taking her hand and waist, and off they waltzed.

"And so how have you been these past years? You've been living on Kyoshi, right?" Zuko asked.

"Correct."

"But you haven't been to the South Pole in a while, yes?"

"Well, true. I really should go. And drag Sokka with me; Dad's getting old, and Sokka's next in line to be chieftain."

"Really now?"

"Really." She snorted softly. Her brother, the Southern Water Tribe chieftain; he was more likely to be Suki's devoted and slavish husband on Kyoshi.

"I think that he would be an excellent leader," Zuko said. "Better that me, I'm sure."

"Zuko, nothing is more deceitful than the appearance of humility," she said crossly.

"Why so touchy tonight, Katara?"

"I have my reasons."

His face blackened considerably.

"Come, let us take this outside before it gets messy," he said. He grasped her forearm and pulled her out of the throng of people, out a door, and onto a pavilion leading to the royal gardens.

"Pray tell, what has anyone done to make you so angry?" he asked.

"I am simply defending my brother and making sure you know your lessons! Acting like a politician amongst friends is no way to be!"

Zuko heaved a sigh of disgust. He turned, and faced the gardens.

It was only then did Katara feel tiny and terrible. She shut her eyes briefly, allowing images to flash through her mind.

_That's enough_.

"Zuko…I'm sorry. I can't speak much plainer but to admit that my own pride is getting in the way of my feelings."

"Really now?" He turned, and looked at her. She felt transparent.

"Forgive me?" she asked, spreading her arms.

He bypassed her arms and went straight for her mouth.


	2. Blood

Blood

"Good bye Suki! I love you! I'll see you in a week when you get there!" Sokka called off the edge of the boat. It had taken Katara almost twenty minutes to pull Suki away from her brother's octopus-like grip. She was fed up with his clingy-ness, and she wasn't even in a relationship with him.

"SOKKA! Someone has to steer this boat!" she shouted. He snapped out of his reverie and in three enormous leaps, stood at the tiller.

"Hoist the mainsail! Tighten the jibe! We're going south!" Sokka roared. Several sailors hopped to his commands. Katara smiled, and a warm arm draped over her shoulders.

"Well, hello there, stranger," she said, looking up at the young Fire Lord. Dressed in all charcoal-black, with a sheath for his double swords strapped over his hips, he looked the part of the dark hero.

"Ah, I have the pleasure of meeting the most beautiful young woman in the Southern Water Tribe," he said, tossing his hair back.

"One of the only young women in the Southern Water Tribe," she corrected him, "Or at least I was a few years ago. We'll have to see when we get there."

"Indeed."

If Katara thought that it took a long time to get from the South Pole to Kyoshi on Appa, she was wrong. It was almost a three-week journey to the South Pole from Kyoshi, and Sokka, who, in her opinion, was an expert sailor, said the wind was in their favor.

"Where's the last air-bender when you need him!" Zuko shouted one day, after heaving the contents of his stomach over the side of the ship (Sokka had decided to cook that evening).

"In an air-temple, meditating!" Katara shot back at him. Grouchiness had overcome her, having been the only female aboard the ship, and having a bad case of cabin fever.

The air began to cool in the coming week, and she found herself feeling more relaxed as she pulled out a newly-altered parka to put on. It felt familiar and safe, like home. Sokka even looked more relaxed in some of his old clothes.

Only Zuko looked nervous, she noted, always shivering despite the parka she'd made for him. She summed it up to the frigid air that he'd never spent much time in, memories of who he used to be, and the fact that he was essentially meeting her extended family for the first time. She grinned, thinking about the people who'd helped raise her as a child when her mother died and then when her father left to fight.

The blue waters of the ocean soon turned icy. Glaciers replaced sandbars, and the sea filled with tiger-seals instead of dolphins and elephant koi. She was coming home.

A few days later, and the glaciers got thicker, and a smudge of white with gray swirling above it got came into the horizon.

"We're coming up to our old village!" Sokka shouted joyously. "We're coming home, little sister!" The siblings hugged in joy as the smoke from cook fires got closer.

"I can smell the sea prunes cooking, Sokka!" Katara cried. Zuko looked like he was about ready to throw up again.

"Why so nervous, Zuko?" she asked him later, as the boat eased into the peninsula for docking.

"I, well, um, I dunno." She strongly suspected that he was lying, but she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek anyways.

The plank was thrown down and people swarmed as the passengers came down. Katara found herself in a many-armed embrace from the tribeswomen that had raised her.

"Biyu! Pamuya! Hurit! Aiyana!" she said, looking around at her aunts, Hakoda's sisters

"Little Katara! We've missed you. It's been much too long," said stocky and plump Aunt Biyu.

"We agree!" said slender and tall Aunt Pamuya and petite Aunt Aiyana together. Aunt Hurit's wrinkled little nut of a face crinkled up in a big smile. Katara looked over to see her brother engulfed in a hug with his "little warriors" who weren't so little anymore. Boys he'd attempted to train as toddlers were tall teens now. Her uncles puttered around in the back, looking suspiciously at the tall, dark stranger that looked strangely familiar.

_Yikes! I forgot to introduce Zuko!_

"Everybody! Um, we should consider ourselves blessed to have the new Fire Lord in our humble tribe!" she shouted, leaving the group and grabbing Zuko's arm.

"Is he the one that broke the old watchtower all those years ago!?" asked a voice from the back.

_Oh no…I knew this would come up._

"Uh, well, yes, but he's good now! Now let's go to the village! I can't wait to see Dad!" she said.

"They hate me already, don't they?" Zuko asked softly as they walked off the peninsula and onto the tundra. She took his arm in hers.

"No, no, they don't. I promise. These people are my blood, my family, and my friends. They won't hurt you. They're just as nervous as you are," she assured him. She was about to comfort him further, but the words got stuck in her throat when she passed through the ice wall into the "village".

It was not the village of her youth. It was a prosperous city again. It bustled with life. She spotted a small water-bending class, trading booths, shops…it was wonderful.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" said her uncle Kosumi, stroking his great beard. He looked nothing like his brother, Hakoda.

"It is! I can't believe it!" she said in awe, tightening her grip on Zuko's arm. "I don't even recognize it!" She looked back at her brother; his jaw was close to scraping the ice. The young men surrounding him laughed.

"It was incredible!" said another uncle, Biyu's husband Pachua, "Once our cousins from the Northern Tribe came, and our own warriors returned, the great city was restored within two years! And there were lots of babies." Her other uncles chuckled. Zuko's face went from pale to beet-red.

"And your father returned, and all was well," added Aunt Hurit. Katara smiled. She followed her family up to an igloo that was at least three times the size of the one she'd been born in.

"Katara, we're definitely not in the South Pole anymore. Are you sure that we didn't misread the compass?" Sokka asked.

Once inside, stripped of parkas and heavy boots, Katara found herself forced onto a hide cushion and a bowl of stew shoved into her hands. It almost dropped out of her hands when a flap opened and her father came out of it.

"Dad!" she and her brother shouted at once. They jumped and rushed to him, in a many-armed embrace. She felt young, much younger.

As the days passed, Katara found herself spending more and more time with her young cousins, both old and new, and neglecting Zuko. He mostly seemed to spend his time in Hakoda's igloo, writing reports. Getting fed up, and realizing that it wasn't very economical to have him do that, she went to her brother.

"Okay, okay, let me get this straight!" Sokka said to her after she proposed her plan, "You want _me_ to take _Zuko_ hunting with our uncles!?"

"That would be it," she said. Sokka looked a little torn.

"I highly doubt that Zuko's ever been hunting in his life!"

"So? Doesn't mean that he couldn't carry equipment or other stuff."

"But this is a time-honored tradition of the warriors of the Southern Water Tribe!"

"He's fought in a time-honored tradition of the Fire Nation."

Sokka seemed to think on it for a moment, and then relented.

"Well, alright. But only 'cos you love him and stuff."

"You're the best, Sokka!" she cried, squeezing him tight.

Two days later, Zuko found himself bundled up in all the artic gear he'd collected, a spear shoved in his hand and a pack on his back.

"We're going tiger-seal hunting!" Sokka said to him, brimming with excitement. Zuko smiled weakly as Sokka's six intimidating uncles walked by, each armed to the teeth with spears, knives, and pikes. Yahto, Katara's mother's brother, alone carried a bow and arrows. He seemed about as possessive and obsessive over them as Sokka was over his boomerang.

"Come along, Fire Lord. We've got to go early, when they're sleepy. They're not called _tiger_-seals just because of their stripes," chided Wayra, who, Zuko gleaned, was Auntie Hurit's husband. Zuko had only seen him once, and that was with his young daughter, Chepi; at the time he'd seemed like a gentle giant. Now, he felt like a young boy, skinny and limp and helpless, before the huge, towering man instead of the great and mighty Fire Lord that he was. He gulped, braced himself, and followed his friend out into the blinding white tundra.

"Sokka, we have to see Etchemen first before we leave. He was patching a canoe for us," said Pachua.

"Etchemen!? I haven't seen him since my first canoe was built!" Sokka said excitedly. At the current moment, Zuko wasn't entirely sure if his friend was twenty-two or twelve. After a brief visit to the tribe canoe-maker, Zuko was positive that the hunt was underway. He watched Sokka stick his knife in the ice and listen for vibrations. He conferred briefly with his uncles and they all set off in an easterly direction.

"There's one! Look! A bull!" Sokka breathed out, pointing to it. A single tiger-seal, presumably male, stood on the ice. The uncles surrounded the snow bank and observed it. It was at this point that Zuko, forcibly reminded of the turtle ducks living in the pond at home, looked away. Later there was a fresh kill and much stamping around and back-slapping that he missed out on.

"Oh man! That was so exciting! I gotta take a leak now!" Sokka exclaimed, blue eyes filled with tears of laughter. Though Zuko could not imagine exposing himself in this sort of temperatures, his friend trundled off to relieve himself.

The silence was awkward. Zuko absently tried to dig hole in the snow, but didn't have much luck. He could here the uncles murmuring in a huddle. He ignored them.

"Hey, um, Fire Lord Zuko!" said Askook, Aunt Pamuya's husband, out of the blue. Zuko's head jerked up; really none of the uncles had spoken to him at all since he'd arrived.

"You can just call me Zuko!" he said, a spark of excitement and acceptance flaring through him.

"Well, Zuko, c'mere," said Kosumi. Zuko eagerly went to the huddle. "You see, it's tradition that on your first hunt here, you take a dip in the ocean. I think that it would also give you a bit of an initiation into the tribe."

"Really? Just a dunk in the water? That's it?"

The uncles exchanged glances.

"Well, you have to do it naked," said Tokala, who had just recently married Katara's Aunt Aiyana. He was weedy-looking man, Zuko thought, and seemed to snivel and whine at his wife constantly.

Zuko's eyes widened considerably. With some clothes on, he wouldn't have been concerned, but naked would take a considerable amount of energy to use his breath of fire to warm up. But tradition was tradition, and he didn't want to seem like a spoiled weakling here of all places, and in front of these people. He slowly began to strip off his clothes.

Once his loin-wrap was lying on top of the neat pile of clothes, he shook out, loosening up, and stared at the hole in the ice that Wayra had hacked open. The water might as well have been ice already.

_Well, staring at it won't do anything, Zuko._

He jumped, just as he heard Sokka's yell. He looked upward, but he sank a little further down. There was an undertow.

_Shit_.

Quickly, he reached up, pulling himself up through the icy water. He guessed at being perhaps twelve feet underwater, a bit more than twice his own height. Kicking, splashing, twisting, he pulled, feeling his toes and fingers go completely numb. He was running out of air, he was sure. He tilted his head up, searching for the hole. Seeing Sokka's waver-y face, he reached up as far as he could under someone grasped his wrists. He gasped as pain shot down to his aching shoulders. Salty water flooded his mouth. He was dragged out onto a hide by Sokka, coughing and trying to catch his breath.

"Seriously! What were you guys playing at!? He's the _Fire Lord_, for the love of Tui and La!" Zuko heard Sokka shouting at his relatives. With his blood running so sluggishly, his skin a mottled blue, shivering with the cold that felt almost white-hot, he wasn't sure if he was conscious or not.

"Zuko!"

Ah, the voice of an angel. He cracked his eyes open to seen Katara's eyes, puddles that had leaked down from the sky, watching him. He vaguely registered that she was dressing him. Her hands felt somewhat stinging as they traversed his hips, pulling his two shirts over his head, and his leggings onto his legs.

He hacked out a few coughs, attempting to speak.

"Shush, dear heart, just use your breath of fire right now. We've got to get you inside," she said, placing a light kiss on his cheek that he only barely felt. "Auntie Ooljee, what else do you think we should do here?"

One of Katara's many aunts said, "I think we've done the best we can here. Let's get going. Yahto! If you had anything to do with this…!" Katara pulled his parka over his head as her aunt twisted the ear of her husband.

Sokka scooped Zuko up under the knees and around the back to carry him back to the village. Katara stayed near his head, wringing out his hair and rubbing his scalp to warm him. He burped up a small flame and felt immediately better.

Later that evening, in a small, super-heated igloo, Zuko allowed Katara to spoon feed him soup from under his cocoon of blankets and furs.

"Your relatives are as crazy as you are," he said, swallowing the soup, which was bitter and hot.

"Well, you were the one that jumped in. Just thank the spirits that you didn't get frostbitten and we didn't have to cut…anything off." She smiled somewhat suggestively.

"You'd still like me anyways. Jeez, I still don't think it's hot enough in here," he said, sitting up.

"Well, I'll put some more fuel in the fire," Katara said, leaning over to grab some fuel from the basket near the grate.

"Oh no, not like that. I'll bring the heat," he murmured, reaching forward, grabbing her around the waist and beginning to nibble at her neck.

"Puns are not sexy!" she cried, but her tone said something else.


	3. Jealousy

Jealousy

"Honestly Zuko! Do you really think that it's so easy to come by new clothes when we're out in the middle of nowhere?" Katara scolded. She sat cross-legged, leaning against a pillar. A pile of mending sat in her lap, and Zuko sat in front of her, legs folded in a similar fashion. Aang sat up in the vaulted ceiling of the Western Air Temple, watching, hidden in the shadows.

"Come on, off with it. That rip will only get bigger if you keep moving around in it," she told Zuko. He scowled slightly, untied the belt to his robe, let it fall to the ground, and with a single motion, pulled his red shirt up over his head.

Aang cringed even when he heard the words "rip" and "bigger" come out of Katara's mouth, never mind when Zuko took off his shirt, just proving that he was a man, not a boy.

Tall, muscular, a powerful bender, a _prince_, with money and riches beyond her wildest dreams, Zuko (Aang felt) was a much better candidate for a boyfriend. Just watching him, sitting there, perfect posture, big hands resting on his thighs, thick arms slightly bent, he felt so little. He looked at his arms; white sticks. In vain, he flexed the muscles. It seemed to not change at all. His hands were so little too, barely bigger than Katara's.

"I've never seen anyone mend clothes before," Zuko said, his voice soft, smoky, and calm; maybe even seductive. The complete opposite of Aang's weak little chirp.

"I wouldn't've expected a prince to ever have clothes that needed to be fixed when he would have had a whole room full of clothes to replace them with," Katara replied, looking up from the lightning-fast stitches she was placing in Zuko's shirt, torn by a slight miscalculated move with his double swords. Aang felt a pang of hurt and jealousy when Katara glanced approvingly at Zuko's well-muscled chest.

"Would I be given good graces if I said that I'd like to learn?" the older boy, no, the young _man_ asked. Katara smiled, and patted the ground next to her. Easily, gracefully, he moved to the spot next to her, smiling slightly.

Why hadn't he thought of asking to learn something like cooking or sewing?! It would've appealed to Katara's ideas of equality! Aang inwardly cursed himself, and looked back at the scene. Though Zuko's scar faced him, he still felt childish and awkward compared to him. Even sitting, Zuko was at least a full head taller than Katara. Aang was short. Heck, he was twelve and barely Katara's height. And she was no tree.

"See, this is called a whip-stitch. Think of it as moving the needle in a circle," she told him. Zuko's hand clutched the tiny needle as Katara placed her smooth brown one over his, guiding it in and out of the red cloth.

"This isn't so hard. I'm surprised that Sokka hasn't picked it up," Zuko said, looking at Katara with soft gold eyes.

Gold…Zuko had gold, while Aang had iron. Zuko had a presence, had status, had everything to offer, forget being the Avatar.

"Sokka doesn't have the patience to learn this stuff." Soft, familiar feminine laughter gurgled up. The laughter that he loved.

"You're a great teacher, Katara," Zuko said.

_He stole his line! He stole her! That bastard!_ Aang felt his temper rise, and his face probably flushing.

"Oh, thanks. Aang says that you're not half-bad yourself."

"There! All done! Not too shabby if I say so myself!" Zuko said, holding up his shirt. "I feel a mite more accomplished."

Katara's easy smile spread across her face, mirroring Zuko's.

"I think you still need some practice, oh prince," Katara said, but she craned her neck and pressed her lips to Zuko's cheek.

_Lips that had been pressed to his own_, Aang thought heatedly. _If Zuko turns his head in the slightest, I'll kill him. I swear._

Before anything could happen, he lightly dropped from his perch and padded across the floor, unheard.

"Twinkle-toes, what's wrong? Your heart's racing and your body heat's up!" he heard Toph ask as he passed. _If only he knew what he does to _my_ heart. _


	4. Cactus Juice

Cactus Juice

The music was loud and obnoxious, the patrons were somewhat over-sexualized, and the drinks poured freely, and it was Zuko's job to keep them hydrated. Because no one left The Panda Lily entirely sober.

He sighed, and looked around. People trawled over his nice clean bar, flirting detestably; gurgling down the drinks he had so carefully made for them. He squinted, and wrung out the towel he kept under the bar in a bucket with bleach to wipe up the spittle of a wiped out drunkard nearby. His glass of Red Bull and vodka (which was probably the cause of his wipeout) spilled out and over the onyx-colored bar.

_No one has respect for the bartender. Tom Cruise movies lie_, he thought grimily as he mopped up the mess and shouted for security to find the guy's friends or someone to take him home.

"Hey! You!" Zuko turned neatly, hoping to look at least a little intimidating with his black jeans and t-shirt, his scar visible beneath his hair.

"What can I make you?" he asked, feigning politeness.

"Can ya-can ya make me a Hurricane?" asked the young man, head shaved, grey eyes a little bloodshot, which constantly blinked, trying to focus.

"Are you legal?" he asked, peering down at the patron. He seemed no older than eighteen. Zuko shouted for security. "Boulder, find this kid a cab! He's wasted!" The big, somewhat-gruff guard came and took the young man off his hands. Zuko was just about to wash the kid's fingerprints off of his spotless bar when a flash of a narrow waist and wide hips caught his sight.

He turned, and his eyes widened subtly.

The young woman was just about as hot as hell. Nicely filled out and padded and not particularly tall, her skin was the color of the crème de cacao he used to make cocktails with. Her eyes sparkled the color of Jones Berry Soda, and her hair, oh her hair! It tumbled down in dark waves, only half-way pulled back. Faintly, his eyes traveled down the hourglass figure, from the notch in the neck of the blue bohemian-print dress belted around her narrow waist that showed just enough to be sexy, but not enough so that she blended in at the Moulin Rouge, down to the navy gladiator sandals that tied in bows around her plump legs.

_What I'd give to have those legs over my shoulder tonight,_ he thought hungrily, and put on his smoothest grin.

"Hey there. I hear you're pretty skilled at this cocktail business," she said with a flip of her long hair and a cock of her hip.

"What can I get for you, sweetness? A mint julep?" he challenged, smirking.

"Ha. Do I look like Scarlett O'Hara? Gimme a Cactus Juice," she said.

"Really now? Can you handle that?" His good eyebrow may as well have become part of his scalp.

"It's my drink of choice, believe it or not, son."

"Alright, alright," he said roughly, then evened out his tone, "Take a seat, miss." She slithered onto the barstool in front of him, smiling, and placed her elbows on the table to tuck under her chin. This temptress was just _daring_ him to look down her shirt. He smirked again and commenced to making her cocktail.

_Let's see, two parts gin, one part Midori, a heavy splash of lime soda, I could do this in my sleep. _ He tossed the liquid in a cocktail shaker with ice and began to mix it, pulling out a cocktail glass and sticking it in salt.

"So, how'd a nice girl like you wander into a lowbrow place like this?" he asked, pouring her drink into the glass.

"Believe it or not, but it's my brother's fault. Today's his girlfriend's birthday," she said.

"Oh really? And what the birthday girl's poison of choice?" he asked.

"I think she'll like a flirtini, and my brother, well, he'll have a Bloody Mary, heavy on the Tabasco and the cayenne. But they're not going to get their drinks until they come here themselves. I wouldn't leave this bar if you paid me." She seemed to purr at the last thought, and reached out to pay him.

"Oh no, this one's on me," he said, taking her hand to his lips and putting the glass on the counter. Her dark skin pinked slightly as he placed a lime on the glass as a garish.

Carefully, Zuko watched her as she placed the rim to her plump lips. Her eyes closed in delight as it hit her tongue.

"Mmm…perfect. You make a mean drink, sir," she said, licking her lips.

"Thanks, but your favorite is my easy. Call me Zuko, by the way," he said, grinning.

"Oh, then what's _your_ favorite?" She licked her glass, pink tongue sticking slightly to the salt as she took another sip.

"Me, I'm a Kansas Slammer sort of guy, but of course, my break's not for a another ten minutes, so I couldn't indulge in one, beautiful."

"Really now? Join me on the dance floor then?"

He blinked, and glanced at his watch. Calmly, the succubus in front of him sipped at her drink, looking at him with those liquid azure eyes. He debated, looking from his watch, to the window where his boss would be watching, and back to her.

"Hell, I'll take my break now!" He dropped his black apron on a stool under the sink, and shouted to the bartender at the end, "Haru! I'm going on break!" He practically vaulted over the bar entrance to get to her.

"But before I go to all this trouble, can I have a name?" He gave his best smile.

"Katara."

_Katara._ Who knew three syllables could be so gorgeous?

Thumping bass pounded through the floor as she led him into the throng of people, heady with scent of sweat. Her hand was small and callused lightly on the palms, the fingertips smooth and plump. His heart was racing; where the blood was going, who knew?


	5. Fireflies

Fireflies

Her mouth puckered in a tiny, delighted "o", she couldn't take her eyes of the sight before her. Katara sat in a relaxed kneel, hands in her lap, utterly enchanted, in the garden. Her eyes followed the tiny golden specks floated lazily through the air.

She turned only slightly when someone sat down beside her. A small flash of a scar. _Zuko. _She smiled.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, his voice, ever-soft, showing slight puzzlement.

"Those! Those little specks of light!" she said softly, pointing.

"Ah, fireflies, you mean?" He grinned even more.

"Yeah. They're fascinating!" she whispered in awe. He turned to her, watching the fireflies' light reflecting in her cerulean eyes. She was clearly bewitched by them. Sitting on a patch of grass, a brick-work path in front of her, the fountain to their left singing a tinkling, gurgling little song, Zuko found the scene perfect. The last dregs of the sun left the sky a pink-and-orange-tinted blue. Only paper lanterns allowed him to see. The thick wave of her hair near him, the scent of fruit ripening on the fig tree that he could just spy in his right eye left him a little dizzy.

She was so close.

"Is there anything else that I can captivate you with?" he asked. "Perhaps a fig from the tree, or the goldfish in the fountain?"

"Don't mock me, Zuko. We don't exactly get a lot of insects in the South Pole," she said, with an edge to her voice, though still transfixed. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, a woman scorned hath no fury like Katara_, he reminded himself.

Still, he edged closer to her. Her slightly sweet, salty scent filled his head. He swept some hair from his face. Feigning interest in the fireflies, his hand moved to her leg and grasped her hand, little and sepia-coloured, soft and worn.

Katara turned to him, her attention finally diverted. His hand was warm, calloused from ropes, fingers thick and masculine. He squeezed it and made eye-contact. His eyes, warm and golden, like honey, a treat that she had only just begun to enjoy, crinkled in a smile. She smiled back. Something she would have thought impossible only six months before.

"I think that _you're_ far more interesting than fireflies," he said. Her grin got bigger.

"Thank you," she said, amused.

Then the shock hit. His head moved swiftly and suddenly, his lips were crashing onto hers. His eyes were closed, calm, but hers widened in surprise. But not for long; as soon as his lips moving against hers, they fluttered to a close.

He seemed to go without air for preternaturally long times. His lips work at her, as if trying to get every single taste out of them. Of course he would do that; Zuko is a perfectionist, a creature of organization and ritual.

She tasted cloves and sweet peppers on his lips, with a tinge of something earthy, but also metallic. Perhaps, if he would only use his tongue, she could find out for sure…

He paused, only for a few harried breaths between them. Slowly, his hands on her ribs, he pushed her up, only brushing their lips together. Her mind felt hazy, all she could do was run her hands over his back. Carefully, she brushed her tongue his lips.

Something light brushed her nose. Her eyes shot open and stared at the tip of her nose. Zuko's opened a split-second later to stare at the tiny lightning bug perched on the tip of her nose.

Her lips willingly locked to his, she started to giggle. It must have been infectious, because it spread, and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Fascinating little critter, and a bit of a show-spoiler, I think," he said. She laughed more and collapsed to his side, hand laced in his.


	6. Rhythm

Rhythm

I had never been one to admit beauty in something I found destructive; but this, this was different.

Of course, strictly speaking, I was not in any state of beauty at the moment. My hair was a tangle, my eyes were dry and begging to shut again, and I was uncomfortably hot, despite the fact that I was barely dressed, with just my tunic on.

I had just splashed some water on my face to wake up more when my attention was caught byi _him./i_

Zuko was an early riser (and a heavy sleeper, we'd found; not even Sokka's snoring would wake him), that much was true, and something a ritualist. Every morning, I had deduced from the water boiling away merrily in my cook pot, he'd get up and go through training sets, something I myself saved for the evening. But I'd never seen him at it.

But here I was, up early enough to sit behind the fountain and watch him. He seemed to pivot only on one foot through his training sets, perfectly balanced.

As I watched, I found an odd triplet rhythm to his bending. He'd hold his stance for a beat, and then lash out, left fist, right fist, left foot, then hold his stance again. Then again, left, right, left.

At least it explained the heat resonating throughout the temple that we had claimed for our own.

Hold, left, right, left. Hold, left, right, left. I blinked. He stopped, and took only a few breaths before he closed his stance. Sweat dripped in rivers down his back, which I noted be well-toned. His hair stuck out at odd angles. And then he opened his stance again, took a breath rivaling on an air-bender.

And the fire rolled out of his nose and mouth.

I jumped in shock, knocking over a stack of bowls. Nervously, I shoved my hair back, attempting to look attractive, as his head slowly turned to me, face stony…but handsome, my mind told me.

What was I thinking!? He was going to furious that I'd been spying on him! I'd be made into water-bender toast in a second!

"Good morning, Katara. Would you mind hosing me down? I imagine that I'm a bit smelly right now," he said mildly, giving me a small smile. My legs shook.

"Sure, no problem," I said, standing up (with no pants on, I cursed myself) and took my usual bearing for bending, arms crooked, fingers spread, pivoted enough so that my short tunic didn't betray me. I lifted the water out of the fountain, and forced it spray at him.

It had occurred to me at this moment that I was pants-less, with a soaking wet, never mind shirtless, Zuko, and this was a little weird. Ok, a lot weird. If my brother decided to wake now, I'd find myself in serious trouble. I shivered as I continued to pump water at him, my heart pumping a different rhythm than usual.

"That's enough," he said, holding his hand out. I stopped, too nervous to even bend the water back into the fountain. He shook himself thoroughly, and I noted that nothing on his body reverberated from it. He must've been all hard muscle.

Then he decided that it would be a good idea to dry himself off by bending. I was frozen in my spot, barely breathing, as steam started to rise off his skin.

"So, what's for breakfast?" he asked, grinning.

"IdunnobutifyoucouldgetthewaterboilingformeI'llstartsomethingwhenIcomeback!" I spat out, mortified at the fact that I was standing in front of him not even properly dressed, extremely turned-on, and shocked beyond my mind. I bolted for my bed.


	7. Lick

Lick

I'd never thought that I would ever be envious of a giant flying bison. But as the beast was thoroughly washed down by Katara, I wished that I were the one getting his hair combed by her, being scrubbed down with her homemade soap, and getting a big hug.

Skillfully, she bent him dry and channeled the water back into the fountain. I sat, curled up, on Sokka's bed of all places, searching through his stuff for his knife-sharpener. He was _so_ disorganized for someone who thought everything through, and had shown the signs of a genius.

"There ya go, buddy, all clean and combed!" she said to the bison. Appa, I'd gathered its name to be, made a rumbling, groaning noise, and licked her. She giggled sweetly.

"Aww, Appa! You're welcome!" she squealed, hugging his big face.

_Katara's giggles rang through my ears as I nibbled up her dark neck._

"_Oh, Zuko, stop it! That tickles!" she protested, but I gave no avail, and ran my tongue up her neck to her chin. _

I could've kicked myself. I looked to Katara, who said something that I couldn't hear over the pounding of blood in my ears, flushed, looked down guiltily, and shocked, then ran.

I hid, pitifully, in the room that I'd slept in for a while before moving out onto the pavilion with the rest of the group as the summer grew hotter. Curled on the bed, I felt so…I don't know, chauvinistic?

But there was no denying male impulse for poor Prince Zuko. My mind wandered when unfocused…

_There she was, in all her exotic beauty, curvaceous and dark. There was a hiccup in my breath and I kissed her. I kissed her all over. My hands were all over her smooth skin, stroking and kneading. _

_Never mind the hiccup, my breath was gone when she reached down and touched me. My back arched. _

There was a knock at the door. I looked up.

"Yes?" I asked, feeling a bit pathetic.

"Zuko? You looked a little sick earlier; are you feeling alright?" Katara asks gently, peering into the room.

"Uh, no, could you come take a look at me?" I pleaded, lying through my teeth.

_Jealously, I guarded her dark skin from the moon's light in our moment together. She moaned deliciously, shadows dancing on her perfect face. Wet, wet, wet. It wasn't just sweat, I knew. My mouth covered hers in a bruising kiss. Her hands were at my back, digging in, scratching, but moving ever downward. _

It was only a fantasy, right?


End file.
